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Title: The French Immortals: Quotes and Images, Complete

Author: Various

Editor: David Widger

Release date: July 13, 2009 [eBook #29402]

Most recently updated: January 5, 2021

Language: English

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QUOTES AND IMAGES: THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

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CONTENTS

THE INK STAIN

Rene Bazin

JACQUELINE

Therese Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)

GERFAUT

Charles de Bernard

COSMOPOLIS

Paul Bourget

PRINCE ZILAH

Jules Caretie

A ROMANCE OF YOUTH

Francois Coppee

FROMONT AND RISLER

Alphonse Daudet

CINQ MARS

Alfred de Vigny

M.M. AND BEBE

Gustave Droz

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS

Octave Feuillet

THE RED LILY

Anatole France

ABBE CONSTANTIN

Ludovic Halevey

CHRYSANTHEME

Pierre Loti

CONSCIENCE

Hector Malot

ZIBELINE

Phillipe de Massa

THE CHILD OF A CENTURY

Alfred de Musset

SERGE PANINE

George Ohnet

AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER

Emile Souvestre

A WOODLAND QUEEN

Andre Theuriet

THE INK STAIN, By Rene Bazin

All that a name is to a street—

its honor, its spouse

Came not in single spies, but in

battalions

Distrust first impulse

Felix culpa

Happy men don't need company

Hard that one can not live one's life

over twice

He always loved to pass for being

overwhelmed with work

I don't call that fishing

If trouble awaits us, hope will  steal

us a happy hour or two

Lends—I should say gives

Men forget sooner

Natural only when alone, and talk well

only to themselves

Obstacles are the salt of all our joys

One doesn't offer apologies to a man in

his wrath

People meeting to "have it out" usually

say nothing at first

Silence, alas! is not the reproof of

kings alone

Skilful actor, who apes all the

emotions while feeling none

Sorrows shrink into insignificance as

the horizon broadens

Surprise goes for so much in what we

admire

The very smell of books is improving

The looks of the young are always full

of the future

There are some blunders that are lucky;

but you can't tell

To be your own guide doubles your

pleasure

You a law student, while our farmers

are in want of hands

You must always first get the tobacco

to burn evenly

You ask Life for certainties, as if she

had any to give you

JACQUELINE, By Therese Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)

A familiarity which, had he known it,

was not flattering

A mother's geese are always swans

As we grow older we lay aside harsh

judgments and sharp words

Bathers, who exhibited themselves in

all degrees of ugliness

Blow which annihilates our supreme

illusion

Death is not that last sleep

Fool (there is no cure for that

infirmity)

Fred's verses were not good, but they

were full of dejection

Great interval between a dream and its

execution

Hang out the bush, but keep no tavern

His sleeplessness was not the insomnia

of genius

Importance in this world are as easily

swept away as the sand

Music—so often dangerous to married

happiness

Natural longing, that we all have,

to know the worst

Notion of her husband's having an

opinion of his own

Old women—at least thirty years old!

Pride supplies some sufferers with

necessary courage

Seemed to enjoy themselves, or made

believe they did

Seldom troubled himself to please any

one he did not care for

Small women ought not to grow stout

Sympathetic listening, never having

herself anything to say

The bandage love ties over the eyes

of men

The worst husband is always better

than none

This unending warfare we call love

Unwilling to leave him to the repose

he needed

Waste all that upon a thing that nobody

will ever look at

Women who are thirty-five should never

weep

GERFAUT, By Charles de Bernard

Antipathy for her husband bordering

upon aversion

Attractions that difficulties give

to pleasure

Attractive abyss of drunkenness

Consented to become a wife so as not

to remain a maiden

Despotic tone which a woman assumes

when sure of her empire

Evident that the man was above his

costume; a rare thing!

I believed it all; one is so happy to

believe!

It is a terrible step for a woman to

take, from No to Yes

Lady who requires urging, although she

is dying to sing

Let them laugh that win!

Let ultra-modesty destroy poetry

Love is a fire whose heat dies out for

want of fuel

Mania for fearing that she may be

compromised

Material in you to make one of Cooper's

redskins

Misfortunes never come single

No woman is unattainable, except when

she loves another

Obstinacy of drunkenness

Recourse to concessions is often as

fatal to women as to kings

Regards his happiness as a proof of

superiority

She said yes, so as not to say no

These are things that one admits only

to himself

Those whom they most amuse are those

who are best worth amusing

Topics that occupy people who meet for

the first time

Trying to conceal by a smile (a blush)

When one speaks of the devil he appears

Wiped his nose behind his hat, like a

well-bred orator

You are playing 'who loses wins!'

COSMOPOLIS, By Paul Bourget

Conditions of blindness so voluntary

that they become complicity

Despotism natural to puissant

personalities

Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and

saltpetre

Follow their thoughts instead of

heeding objects

Has as much sense as the handle of a

basket

Have never known in the morning what I

would do in the evening

I no longer love you

Imagine what it would be never to have

been born

Mediocre sensibility

Melancholy problem of the birth and

death of love

Mobile and complaisant conscience had

already forgiven himself

No flies enter a closed mouth

Not an excuse, but an explanation of

your conduct

One of those trustful men who did not

judge when they loved

Only one thing infamous in love, and

that is a falsehood

Pitiful checker-board of life

Scarcely a shade of gentle

condescension

Sufficed him to conceive the plan of a

reparation

That suffering which curses but does

not pardon

That you can aid them in leading better

lives?

The forests have taught man liberty

There is an intelligent man, who never

questions his ideas

There is always and everywhere a duty

to fulfil

Thinking it better not to lie on minor

points

Too prudent to risk or gain much

Walked at the rapid pace characteristic

of monomaniacs

Words are nothing; it is the tone in

which they are uttered

PRINCE ZILAH, By Jules Claretie

A man's life belongs to his duty,

and not to his happiness

All defeats have their geneses

An hour of rest between two ordeals,

a smile between two sobs

Anonymous, that velvet mask of

scandal-mongers

At every step the reality splashes you

with mud

Bullets are not necessarily on the side

of the right

Does one ever forget?

Foreigners are more Parisian than the

Parisians themselves

History is written, not made.

"I might forgive," said Andras; "but I

could not forget"

If well-informed people are to be

believe

Insanity is, perhaps, simply the ideal

realized

It is so good to know nothing, nothing,

nothing

Let the dead past bury its dead!

Life is a tempest

Man who expects nothing of life except

its ending

Nervous natures, as prompt to hope as

to despair

No answer to make to one who has no

right to question me

Not only his last love, but his only

love

Nothing ever astonishes me

One of those beings who die, as they

have lived, children

Pessimism of to-day sneering at his

confidence of yesterday

Playing checkers, that mimic warfare of

old men

Poverty brings wrinkles

Sufferer becomes, as it were, enamored

of his own agony

Superstition which forbids one to

proclaim his happiness

Taken the times as they are

The Hungarian was created on horseback

There were too many discussions, and

not enough action

Unable to speak, for each word would

have been a sob

What matters it how much we suffer

Why should I read the newspapers?

Willingly seek a new sorrow

Would not be astonished at anything

You suffer?  Is fate so just as that

A ROMANCE OF YOUTH, By Francois Coppee

Break in his memory, like a book with

several leaves torn out

Dreams, instead of living

Egotists and cowards always have a

reason for everything

Eternally condemned to kill each other

in order to live

Fortunate enough to keep those one

loves

God forgive the timid and the prattler!

Good form consists, above all things,

in keeping silent

Happiness exists only by snatches and

lasts only a moment

He does not know the miseries of

ambition and vanity

He almost regretted her

How sad these old memorics are in the

autumn

Inoffensive tree which never had harmed

anybody

Intimate friend, whom he has known for

about five minutes

It was all delightfully terrible!

Learned that one leaves college almost

ignorant

Mild, unpretentious men who let

everybody run over them

My good fellow, you are quite worthless

as a man of pleasure

Never travel when the heart is

troubled!

Not more honest than necessary

Now his grief was his wife, and lived

with him

Paint from nature

Poor France of Jeanne d'Arc and of

Napoleon

Redouble their boasting after each

defeat

Society people condemned to hypocrisy

and falsehood

Take their levity for heroism

Tediousness seems to ooze out through

their bindings

The leaves fall!  the leaves fall!

The sincere age when one thinks aloud

Tired smile of those who have not long

to live

Trees are like men; there are some that

have no luck

Universal suffrage, with its accustomed

intelligence

Upon my word, there are no ugly ones

(women)

Very young, and was in love with love

Voice of the heart which alone has

power to reach the heart

Were certain against all reason

When he sings, it is because he has

something to sing about

FROMONT AND RISLER, By Alphonse Daudet

A man may forgive, but he never forgets

Abundant details which he sometimes

volunteered

Affectation of indifference

Always smiling condescendingly

Charm of that one day's rest and its

solemnity

Clashing knives and forks mark time

Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes

under the bed!

Deeming every sort of occupation

beneath him

Dreams of wealth and the disasters that

immediately followed

Exaggerated dramatic pantomime

Faces taken by surprise allow their

real thoughts to be seen

He fixed the time mentally when he

would speak

Little feathers fluttering for an

opportunity to fly away

Make for themselves a horizon of the

neighboring walls and roofs

No one has ever been able to find out

what her thoughts were

Pass half the day in procuring two

cakes, worth three sous

She was of those who disdain no

compliment

Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic

laughter

Superiority of the man who does nothing

over the man who works

Terrible revenge she would take

hereafter for her sufferings

The poor must pay for all their

enjoyments

The groom isn't handsome, but the

bride's as pretty as a picture

Void in her heart, a place made ready

for disasters to come

Wiping his forehead ostentatiously

Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless

lips

Would have liked him to be blind only

so far as he was concerned

CINQ MARS, By Alfred de Vigny

A cat is a very fine animal.  It is a

drawing-room tiger

A queen's country is where her throne

is

Adopted fact is always better composed

than the real one

Advantage that a calm temper gives one

over men

All that he said, I had already thought

Always the first word which is the most

difficult to say

Ambition is the saddest of all hopes

Art is the chosen truth

Artificialities of style of that period

Artistic Truth, more lofty than the

True

As Homer says, "smiling under tears"

Assume with others the mien they wore

toward him

But how avenge one's self on silence?

Dare now to be silent when I have told

you these things

Daylight is detrimental to them

Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice

Difference which I find between Truth

in art and the True in fac

Doubt, the greatest misery of love

Friendship exists only in independence

and a kind of equality

Happy is he who does not outlive his

youth

Hatred of everything which is superior

to myself

He did not blush to be a man, and he

spoke to men with force

Hermits can not refrain from inquiring

what men say of them

History too was a work of art

I have burned all the bridges behind me

In pitying me he forgot himself

In every age we laugh at the costume of

our fathers

In times like these we must see all and

say all

It is not now what it used to be

It is too true that virtue also has its

blush

Lofty ideal of woman and of love

Men are weak, and there are things

which women must accomplish

Money is not a common thing between

gentlemen like you and me

Monsieur, I know that I have lived too

long

Neither idealist nor realist

Never interfered in what did not

concern him

No writer had more dislike of mere

pedantry

Offices will end by rendering great

names vile

Princes ought never to be struck,

except on the head

Princesses ceded like a town, and must

not even weep

Principle that art implied selection

Recommended a scrupulous observance of

nature

Remedy infallible against the plague

and against reserve

Reproaches are useless and cruel if the

evil is done

Should be punished for not having known

how to punish

So strongly does force impose upon men

Tears for the future

The great leveller has swung a long

scythe over France

The most in favor will be the soonest

abandoned by him

The usual remarks prompted by

imbecility on such occasions

These ideas may serve as opium to

produce a calm

They tremble while they threaten

They have believed me incapable because

I was kind

They loved not as you love, eh?

This popular favor is a cup one must

drink

This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis

XIV

True talent paints life rather than the

living

Truth,  I here venture to distinguish

from that of the True

Urbain Grandier

What use is the memory of facts, if not

to serve as an example

Woman is more bitter than death, and

her arms are like chains

Yes, we are in the way here

M.M. AND BEBE, By Gustave Droz

A ripe husband, ready to fall from the

tree

Affection is catching

All babies are round, yielding, weak,

timid, and soft

And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall

then be grown up

Answer "No," but with a little kiss

which means "Yes"

As regards love, intention and deed are

the same

But she thinks she is affording you

pleasure

Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great

relief of his two arms

Do not seek too much

Emotion when one does not share it

First impression is based upon a number

of trifles

He Would Have Been Forty Now

Hearty laughter which men affect to

assist digestion

How many things have not people been

proud of

How rich we find ourselves when we

rummage in old drawers

Husband who loves you and eats off the

same plate is better

I would give two summers for a single

autumn

I do not accept the hypothesis of a

world made for us

I came here for that express purpose

I am not wandering through life, I am

marching on

Ignorant of everything, undesirous of

learning anything

In his future arrange laurels for a

little crown for your own

It (science) dreams, too; it supposes

It is silly to blush under certain

circumstances

Learned to love others by embracing

their own children

Life is not so sweet for us to risk

ourselves in it singlehanded

Love in marriage is, as a rule, too

much at his ease

Man is but one of the links of an

immense chain

Rather do not give—make yourself

sought after

Reckon yourself happy if in your

husband you find a lover

Recollection of past dangers to

increase the present joy

Respect him so that he may respect you

Shelter himself in the arms of the weak

and recover courage

Sometimes like to deck the future in

the garments of the past

The heart requires gradual changes

The future that is rent away

The recollection of that moment lasts

for a lifetime

The future promises, it is the present

that pays

Their love requires a return

There are pious falsehoods which the

Church excuses

Ties that unite children to parents are

unloosed

Ties which unite parents to children

are broken

To be able to smoke a cigar without

being sick

To love is a great deal—To know how to

love is everything

We are simple to this degree, that we

do not think we are

When time has softened your grief

Why mankind has chosen to call marriage

a man-trap

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS, By Octave Feuillet

A man never should kneel unless sure of

rising a conqueror

A defensive attitude is never agreeable

to a man

Bad to fear the opinion of people one

despises

Believing that it is for virtue's sake

alone such men love them

Camors refused, hesitated, made

objections, and consented

Confounding progress with discord,

liberty with license

Contempt for men is the beginning of

wisdom

Cried out, with the blunt candor of his

age

Dangers of liberty outweighed its

benefits

Demanded of him imperatively—the time

of day

Determined to cultivate ability rather

than scrupulousness

Disenchantment which follows possession

Do not get angry.  Rarely laugh, and

never weep

Every one is the best judge of his own

affairs

Every road leads to Rome—and one as

surely as another

Every cause that is in antagonism with

its age commits suicide

God—or no principles!

Have not that pleasure, it is useless

to incur the penalties

He is charming, for one always feels in

danger near him

Inconstancy of heart is the special

attribute of man

Intemperance of her zeal and the

acrimony of her bigotry

Knew her danger, and, unlike most of

them, she did not love it

Man, if he will it, need not grow old:

the lion must

Never can make revolutions with gloves

on

Once an excellent remedy, is a

detestable regimen

One of those pious persons who always

think evil

Pleasures of an independent code of

morals

Police regulations known as religion

Principles alone, without faith in some

higher sanction

Property of all who are strong enough

to stand it

Put herself on good terms with God, in

case He should exist

'Semel insanivimus omnes.'  (every one

has his madness)

Slip forth from the common herd, my

son, think for yourself

Suspicion that he is a feeble human

creature after all!

There will be no more belief in Christ

than in Jupiter

Ties that become duties where we only

sought pleasures

Truth is easily found.  I shall read

all the newspapers

Two persons who desired neither to

remember nor to forget

Whether in this world one must be a

fanatic or nothing

Whole world of politics and religion

rushed to extremes

With the habit of thinking, had not

lost the habit of laughing

You can not make an omelette without

first breaking the eggs

THE RED LILY, By Anatole France

A woman is frank when she does not lie

uselessly

A hero must be human.  Napoleon was

human

Anti-Semitism is making fearful

progress everywhere

Brilliancy of a fortune too new

Curious to know her face of that day

Disappointed her to escape the danger

she had feared

Do you think that people have not

talked about us?

Does not wish one to treat it with

either timidity or brutality

Does one ever possess what one loves?

Each had regained freedom, but he did

not like to be alone

Each was moved with self-pity

Everybody knows about that

Fringe which makes an unlovely border

to the city

Gave value to her affability by not

squandering it

He could not imagine that often words

are the same as actions

He studied until the last moment

He is not intelligent enough to doubt

He does not bear ill-will to those whom

he persecutes

He knew now the divine malady of love

Her husband had become quite bearable

His habit of pleasing had prolonged his

youth

(Housemaid) is trained to respect my

disorder

I love myself because you love me

I can forget you only when I am with

you

I wished to spoil our past

I feel in them (churches) the grandeur

of nothingness

I have to pay for the happiness you

give me

I gave myself to him because he loved

me

I haven't a taste, I have tastes

I have known things which I know no

more

I do not desire your friendship

Ideas they think superior to love—

faith, habits, interests

Immobility of time

Impatient at praise which was not

destined for himself

Incapable of conceiving that one might

talk without an object

It was torture for her not to be able

to rejoin him

It is an error to be in the right too

soon

It was too late: she did not wish to

win

Jealous without having the right to be

jealous

Kisses and caresses are the effort of

a delightful despair

Knew that life is not worth so much

anxiety nor so much hope

Laughing in every wrinkle of his face

Learn to live without desire

Let us give to men irony and pity as

witnesses and judges

Life as a whole is too vast and too

remote

Life is made up of just such trifles

Life is not a great thing

Little that we can do when we are

powerful

Love is a soft and terrible force, more

powerful than beauty

Love was only a brief intoxication

Lovers never separate kindly

Made life give all it could yield

Magnificent air of those beggars of

whom small towns are proud

Miserable beings who contribute to the

grandeur of the past

Nobody troubled himself about that

originality

None but fools resisted the current

Not everything is known, but everything

is said

Nothing is so legitimate, so human, as

to deceive pain

One would think that the wind would put

them out: the stars

One who first thought of pasting a

canvas on a panel

One is never kind when one is in love

One should never leave the one whom one

loves

Picturesquely ugly

Recesses of her mind which she

preferred not to open

Relatives whom she did not know and who

irritated her

Seemed to him that men were grains in a

coffee-mill

She pleased society by appearing to

find pleasure in it

She is happy, since she likes to

remember

Should like better to do an immoral

thing than a cruel one

Simple people who doubt neither

themselves nor others

Since she was in love, she had lost

prudence

So well satisfied with his reply that

he repeated it twice

Superior men sometimes lack cleverness

That sort of cold charity which is

called altruism

That if we live the reason is that we

hope

That absurd and generous fury for

ownership

The most radical breviary of scepticism

since Montaigne

The door of one's room opens on the

infinite

The past is the only human reality—

Everything that is, is past

The one whom you will love and who will

love you will harm you

The violent pleasure of losing

The discouragement which the

irreparable gives

The real support of a government is the

Opposition

The politician never should be in

advance of circumstances

There is nothing good except to ignore

and to forget

There are many grand and strong things

which you do not feel

They are the coffin saying: 'I am the

cradle'

To be beautiful, must a woman have that

thin form

Trying to make Therese admire what she

did not know

Umbrellas, like black turtles under the

watery skies

Unfortunate creature who is the

plaything of life

Was I not warned enough of the sadness

of everything?

We are too happy; we are robbing life

What will be the use of having

tormented ourselves in this world

Whether they know or do not know, they

talk

Women do not always confess it, but it

is always their fault

You must take me with my own soul!

ABBE CONSTANTIN, By Ludovic Halevey

Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and

gnawed by time

And they are shoulders which ought to

be seen

Believing themselves irresistible

But she will give me nothing but money

Duty, simply accepted and simply

discharged

Frenchman has only one real luxury—his

revolutions

God may have sent him to purgatory just

for form's sake

Great difference between dearly and

very much

Had not told all—one never does tell

all

He led the brilliant and miserable

existence of the unoccupied

If there is one! (a paradise)

In order to make money, the first thing

is to have no need of it

Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at

peace in the same heart

Never foolish to spend money.  The

folly lies in keeping it

Often been compared to Eugene Sue, but

his touch is lighter

One half of his life belonged to the

poor

One may think of marrying, but one

ought not to try to marry

Succeeded in wearying him by her

importunities and tenderness

The women have enough religion for the

men

The history of good people is often

monotonous or painful

To learn to obey is the only way of

learning to command

CHRYSANTHEME, By Pierre Loti

Ah! the natural perversity of inanimate

things

Contemptuous pity, both for my

suspicions and the cause of them

Dull hours spent in idle and diffuse

conversation

Efforts to arrange matters we succeed

often only in disarranging

Found nothing that answered to my

indefinable expectations

Habit turns into a makeshift of

attachment

I know not what lost home that I have

failed to find

Irritating laugh which is peculiar to

Japan

Japanese habit of expressing myself

with excessive politeness

Ordinary, trivial, every-day objects

Prayers swallowed like pills by

invalids at a distance

Seeking for a change which can no

longer be found

Trees, dwarfed by a Japanese process

When the inattentive spirits are not

listening

Which I should find amusing in any one

else,—any one I loved

CONSCIENCE, By Hector Malot

As ignorant as a schoolmaster

As free from prejudices as one may be,

one always retains a few

Confidence in one's self is strength,

but it is also weakness

Conscience is a bad weighing-machine

Conscience is only an affair of

environment and of education

Find it more easy to make myself feared

than loved

For the rest of his life he would be

the prisoner of his crime

Force, which is the last word of the

philosophy of life

He did not sleep, so much the better!

He would work more

I believed in the virtue of work, and

look at me!

In his eyes everything was decided by

luck

Intelligent persons have no remorse

It is the first crime that costs

It is only those who own something who

worry about the price

Leant—and when I did not lose my

friends I lost my money

Leisure must be had for light reading,

and even more for love

Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay

Neither so simple nor so easy as they

at first appeared

One does not judge those whom one loves

People whose principle was never to pay

a doctor

Power to work, that was never disturbed

or weakened by anything

Reason before the deed, and not after

Repeated and explained what he had

already said and explained

She could not bear contempt

The strong walk alone because they need

no one

We are so unhappy that our souls are

weak against joy

We weep, we do not complain

Will not admit that conscience is the

proper guide of our action

You love me, therefore you do not know

me

ZIBELINE, By Phillipe de Massa

All that was illogical in our social

code

Ambiguity has no place, nor has

compromise

But if this is our supreme farewell,

do not tell me so!

Chain so light yesterday, so heavy

to-day

Every man is his own master in his

choice of liaisons

If I do not give all I give nothing

Indulgence of which they stand in need

themselves

Life goes on, and that is less gay than

the stories

Men admired her; the women sought some

point to criticise

Only a man, wavering and changeable

Ostensibly you sit at the feast without

paying the cost

Paris has become like a little country

town in its gossip

The night brings counsel

Their Christian charity did not extend

so far as that

There are mountains that we never climb

but once

You are in a conquered country, which

is still more dangerous

THE CHILD OF A CENTURY, By Alfred de Musset

A terrible danger lurks in the

knowledge of what is possible

Accustomed to call its disguise virtue

Adieu, my son, I love you and I die

All philosophy is akin to atheism

All that is not life, it is the noise

of life

And when love is sure of itself and

knows response

Because you weep, you fondly imagine

yourself innocent

Become corrupt, and you will cease to

suffer

Began to forget my own sorrow in my

sympathy for her

Beware of disgust, it is an incurable

evil

Can any one prevent a gossip

Cold silence, that negative force

Contrive to use proud disdain as a

shield

Death is more to be desired than a

living distaste for life

Despair of a man sick of life, or the

whim of a spoiled child

Do they think they have invented what

they see

Each one knows what the other is about

to say

Fool who destroys his own happiness

Force itself, that mistress of the

world

Funeral processions are no longer

permitted

Galileo struck the earth, crying:

"Nevertheless it moves!"

Good and bad days succeeded each other

almost regularly

Great sorrows neither accuse nor

blaspheme—they listen

Grief itself was for her but a means of

seducing

Happiness of being pursued

He who is loved by a beautiful woman is

sheltered from every blow

He lives only in the body

How much they desire to be loved who

say they love no more

Human weakness seeks association

I can not be near you and separated

from you at the same moment

I can not love her, I can not love

another

I boasted of being worse than I really

was

I neither love nor esteem sadness

I do not intend either to boast or

abase myself

Ignorance into which the Greek clergy

plunged the laity

In what do you believe?

Indignation can solace grief and

restore happiness

Is he a dwarf or a giant

Is it not enough to have lived?

It is a pity that you must seek

pastimes

Make a shroud of your virtue in which

to bury your crimes

Man who suffers wishes to make her whom

he loves suffer

Men doubted everything: the young men

denied everything

No longer esteemed her highly enough to

be jealous of her

Of all the sisters of love, the most

beautiful is pity

Perfection does not exist

Pure caprice that I myself mistook for

a flash of reason

Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad

than our reconciliation

Reading the Memoirs of Constant

Resorted to exaggeration in order to

appear original

Sceptic regrets the faith he has lost

the power to regain

Seven  who are always the same: the

first is called hope

She pretended to hope for the best

Sometimes we seem to enjoy unhappiness

"Speak to me of your love," she said,

"not of your grief"

St. Augustine

Suffered, and yet took pleasure in it

Suspicions that are ever born anew

Terrible words; I deserve them, but

they will kill me

There are two different men in you

Ticking of which (our arteries) can be

heard only at night

"Unhappy man!"  she cried, "you will

never know how to love"

We have had a mass celebrated, and it

cost us a large sum

What you take for love is nothing more

than desire

What human word will ever express thy

slightest caress

When passion sways man, reason follows

him weeping and warning

Who has told you that tears can wash

away the stains of guilt

Wine suffuses the face as if to prevent

shame appearing there

You believe in what is said here below

and not in what is done

You play with happiness as a child

plays with a rattle

You turn the leaves of dead books

Your great weapon is silence

Youth is to judge of the world from

first impressions

SERGE PANINE, By George Ohnet

A man weeps with difficulty before a woman

A uniform is the only garb which can hide

poverty honorably

Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of

aristocrats

Because they moved, they thought they were

progressing

Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent

in prosperity

Enough to be nobody's unless I belong to him

Even those who do not love her desire to

know her

Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation,

and nullity

Flayed and roasted alive by the critics

Forget a dream and accept a reality

Hard workers are pitiful lovers

He lost his time, his money, his hair, his

illusions

He was very unhappy at being misunderstood

Heed that you lose not in dignity what you gain

in revenge

I thought the best means of being loved were

to deserve it

I don't pay myself with words

Implacable self-interest which is the law of

the world

In life it is only nonsense that is

common-sense

Is a man ever poor when he has two arms?

Is it by law only that you wish to keep me?

It was a relief when they rose from the table

Men of pleasure remain all their lives

mediocre workers

Money troubles are not mortal

My aunt is jealous of me because I am a

man of ideas

Negroes, all but monkeys!

Nothing that provokes laughter more than a

disappointed lover

One amuses one's self at the risk of dying

Patience, should he encounter a dull page

here or there

Romanticism still ferments beneath the

varnish of Naturalism

Sacrifice his artistic leanings to popular

caprice

Scarcely was one scheme launched when another

idea occurred

She would have liked the world to be in mourning

Suffering is a human law; the world is an arena

Talk with me sometimes.  You will not chatter

trivialities

The guilty will not feel your blows, but the

innocent

The uncontested power which money brings

They had only one aim, one passion—to enjoy

themselves

Unqualified for happiness

We had taken the dream of a day for eternal

happiness

What is a man who remains useless

Without a care or a cross, he grew weary

like a prisoner

You are talking too much about it to be

sincere

AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER, By Emile Souvestre

Always to mistake feeling for evidence

Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures

him!'

Are we then bound to others only by the

enforcement of laws

Attach a sense of remorse to each of my

pleasures

Brought them up to poverty

But above these ruins rises a calm and

happy face

Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell

to flesh!"

Coffee is the grand work of a

bachelor's housekeeping

Contemptuous pride of knowledge

Death, that faithful friend of the

wretched

Defeat and victory only displace each

other by turns

Did not think the world was so great

Do they understand what makes them so

gay?

Each of us regards himself as the

mirror of the community

Ease with which the poor forget their

wretchedness

Every one keeps his holidays in his own

way

Fame and power are gifts that are

dearly bought

Favorite and conclusive answer of his

class—"I know"

Fear of losing a moment from business

Finishes his sin thoroughly before he

begins to repent

Fortune sells what we believe she gives

Her kindness, which never sleeps

Houses are vessels which take mere

passengers

Hubbub of questions which waited for no

reply

I make it a rule never to have any hope

Ignorant of what there is to wish for

Looks on an accomplished duty neither

as a merit nor a grievance

Make himself a name:  he becomes public

property

Moderation is the great social virtue

More stir than work

My patronage has become her property

No one is so unhappy as to have nothing

to give

Not desirous to teach goodness

Nothing is dishonorable which is useful

Our tempers are like an opera-glass

Poverty, you see, is a famous

schoolmistress

Power of necessity

Prisoners of work

Progress can never be forced on without

danger

Question is not to discover what will

suit us

Richer than France herself, for I have

no deficit in my budget

Ruining myself, but we must all have

our Carnival

Satisfy our wants, if we know how to

set bounds to them

Sensible man, who has observed much and

speaks little

So much confidence at first, so much

doubt at las

Sullen tempers are excited by the

patience of their victims

The happiness of the wise man costs but

little

The man in power gives up his peace

Two thirds of human existence are

wasted in hesitation

Virtue made friends, but she did not

take pupils

We do not understand that others may

live on their own account

We are not bound to live, while we are

bound to do our duty

What have you done with the days God

granted you

What a small dwelling joy can live

You may know the game by the lair

A WOODLAND QUEEN, By Andre Theuriet

Accustomed to hide what I think

Amusements they offered were either

wearisome or repugnant

Consoled himself with one of the pious

commonplaces

Dreaded the monotonous regularity of

conjugal life

Fawning duplicity

Had not been spoiled by Fortune's gifts

How small a space man occupies on the

earth

Hypocritical grievances

I am not in the habit of consulting the

law

I measure others by myself

It does not mend matters to give way

like that

Like all timid persons, he took refuge

in a moody silence

More disposed to discover evil than

good

Nature's cold indifference to our

sufferings

Never is perfect happiness our lot

Opposing his orders with steady,

irritating inertia

Others found delight in the most

ordinary amusements

Plead the lie to get at the truth

Sensitiveness and disposition to

self-blame

The ease with which he is forgotten

There are some men who never have had

any childhood

Those who have outlived their illusions

Timidity of a night-bird that is made

to fly in the day

To make a will  is to put one foot into

the grave

Toast and white wine (for breakfast)

Vague hope came over him that all would

come right

Vexed, act in direct contradiction to

their own wishes

Women: they are more bitter than death

Yield to their customs, and not

pooh-pooh their amusements

You have considerable patience for a

lover

You must be pleased with yourself—that

is more essential

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Table of Contents

QUOTES AND IMAGES: THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

CONTENTS

THE INK STAIN, By Rene Bazin

JACQUELINE, By Therese Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)

GERFAUT, By Charles de Bernard

COSMOPOLIS, By Paul Bourget

PRINCE ZILAH, By Jules Claretie

A ROMANCE OF YOUTH, By Francois Coppee

FROMONT AND RISLER, By Alphonse Daudet

CINQ MARS, By Alfred de Vigny

M.M. AND BEBE, By Gustave Droz

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS, By Octave Feuillet

THE RED LILY, By Anatole France

ABBE CONSTANTIN, By Ludovic Halevey

CHRYSANTHEME, By Pierre Loti

CONSCIENCE, By Hector Malot

ZIBELINE, By Phillipe de Massa

THE CHILD OF A CENTURY, By Alfred de Musset

SERGE PANINE, By George Ohnet

AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER, By Emile Souvestre

A WOODLAND QUEEN, By Andre Theuriet

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